The Match

Everyone’s in a rush to get weddings done before the government changes the good ways. Parents can’t believe their luck. Only 20 people are allowed at a wedding. No arduous trips to hand out invitations. No large halls. No messy feasts. For once, marriage or at least the wedding could be bliss. But, 20 is still too large a crowd. 

I had to be involved in one, that too quite actively and in a non-gastronomic capacity. According to our old tribal ways, the uncle has much to do in a god-fatherly way, mumbling incoherently so-you-wannabe-family-now, making offers others can’t refuse.

My nephew did not really want me there. Neither did my sister. That’s how tradition works. People assume there would be displeasure and do the worst.

They tried to complete all pre-wedding formalities via videoconference. Even completed a virtual tour of each other’s houses (as if they would find the skeletons in the closet). 

But, how can you go ahead without meeting even once, some idiot asked, not me that time.

We went to the house of the prospective bride. My nephew, his parents, his sister and the ol’ grumbling godfather.

Everything was done according to the directives of the Health Department. We were seated in the verandah. Their water-sprinklers had been modified to disinfect guests. That started a sneezing fit. The girls’ side moved further inside and shouted greetings. I realised too late that I wouldn’t even be pacified with refreshments. Not even a glass of water. The two socially distanced masked sides discussed how they could get close.

Without much ado, we got to the crucial part of the deal. The boy would meet the girl. The uncles would negotiate. On the girl’s side, there was no ‘uncle’ and her mother would officiate in that capacity, we were told. See, I need not have come, you could have done it, I whispered to my sister. She kicked me.

The boy was told “move to the right side” to meet the girl. The uncle “do the opposite”.

We followed those directions. My nephew stood outside a window of a room on the right side of the house. I stood outside a similar window on the other side. The windows had mosquito netting and were heavily curtained. I spotted a silhouette inside.

Pssst, someone hissed. I looked around. It was just an unfriendly reptilian neighbour with a dog, inspecting the garden. Stay away from the wall, the masked figure growled. Why is the human and not the animal without a mask, I was about to ask.

Oye, a voice called from deep within.

Oye oye, I replied.

I like your mask, she said.

You look wonderful, my Pavlovian response.

Sorry we can’t give you anything to eat or drink, she said.

The lady had me and all my attention with such correct concern. 

Oh this cursed corona, I cried.

It’s going to be such a bore, no...I really wanted a paani-puri counter at the wedding, she said. There was deep anguish in her voice.

Parotta and beef curry too, I suggested.

We traded more of such sweet memories for a while. The deal was almost done.

I wanted to discuss something really serious, she said.

Go ahead, I encouraged.

I am not a virgin, she said.

Thank god, I exclaimed. An immaculate conception would have been tough, I added.

Pardon, she said.

Never mind, I soothed.

I am so glad you have taken it so well...guys can be such hypocrites, she said.

I am no ordinary guy, I thought of saying.

Are you a virgin, she asked,

What, I spluttered.

She repeated the question. 

I gave the textbook answer. It had worked in the past. 

Everyone is a virgin in a new relationship, I said. 

That’s cool, dude, she said.

We returned to less serious talk.

Have you seen Indian Matchmaking, she asked.

Yes, I admitted without guilt.

Who did you like, she asked.

Nadia’s mom, I replied without hesitation.

Man...you are not at all like how you were in the video calls, she hooted with laughter.

I hooted too. Not too sure why.

The meeting was wrapped up. 

My nephew too had a satisfactory meeting with the lady on his side.

During the drive back, my nephew talked about his meeting.

His account: I am so glad I got that opportunity to meet her, even though it had to be like that. She started by mentioning that it looked like a scene from ‘Mathilukal’ (Basheer’s novel and Mammootty’s movie based on the same in which a prisoner in a jail talks to someone on the other side of a wall). In all those video calls, she never spoke like that, mature, understanding, serious, deep. All the time, it had been about food and crap shows, the type Maman (uncle) likes. 

Realisation did not dawn that day or the next. 

Both sides realised about the mixup eventually, well before the wedding. My nephew had moved to his right, not hers. And, we had talked to the wrong ladies.

My nephew thinks Oscar Wilde might be right and that she might become like her mother. I don’t know if the girl thinks that a nephew with such a godfather can’t be that bad. 

Anyway, that’s how such stuff are made in heaven.